


12 Points to Viktor's Ass

by AKAuthor



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drinking, Eurovision, Eurovision Song Contest - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Fluffy, Glitter, Kissing, M/M, Naked Viktor, Waking Up, Yuuri is confused, angery yuri, drunk antics with the squad, morning fluff, naked christophe, not eurovision 2017 compliant, why is australia there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAuthor/pseuds/AKAuthor
Summary: Yuuri learns a lot about Eurovision the first time he sees it in Russia. Mila and Sara's relationship may never recover, Emil and Michele's may never start, and Viktor is awarded 12 Points for his ass.





	12 Points to Viktor's Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Not a soulmate AU but damn if Eurovision is my life all the time.  
> Hit me up with any requests, and comments. I love comments. I'm more of an attention whore than Viktor.

First of all, Yuuri has no fucking clue what is going on. He woke up that morning to a normal day in Saint Petersburg, snuggled under a fluffy duvet with grey and gold geometric patterning, the lingering scent of coffee drifting through the apartment. Viktor snuffled from his position where he was tangled with Yuuri, head tucked into the dip of the others collar and neck. Yuuri had laid in the warmth, stroking his lover’s platinum hair gently. Every time Yuuri swept the hair off Viktor’s neck the scattering of vibrant lovebites that intermingled with the faded bruises of the last week. Viktor woke with barely any movement, eyelashes fluttering across Yuuri’s clavicle, brushing against Yuuri’s own collection of purple and blue bruises.   
While Yuuri tugged at Viktor’s hair lightly, pulling his face up to look into sweet eyes. Viktor moaned, voice raspy and skin hot against Yuuri’s as he curled closer. They kissed sweetly for a few moments, before Viktor rolled on top of Yuuri and cupped his cheeks, cradling the Japanese’s face like it was the most precious thing in his possession.   
To him it was.

“Ya tebya lyublyu”  
I love you

The room was getting too hot, sunlight warming through the lofty dove grey curtains that hung on two walls of the bedroom. Their rings caught the strands of light and burst in the corners of their eyes, Viktor and Yuuri never looking away from each other.  
The morning would have gotten even better had Christophe Giacometti not swung into the room, loudly declaring his presence and trash-talking Viktor’s Ikea couch.

 

Yesterday, a collection of European skaters had arrived, partially drunk, at their apartment door. Viktor was ecstatic and set about catching up in the drinking, while Yuuri found places for everyone to sleep and food to eat. Christophe and Emil had become more touchy with alcohol consumption, the former clinging to Makkachin and the latter aggressively attacking Michele with cuddles. Mila and Sara had played multiple rounds of some game they had on their phones, before it completely gave way to what it really was -an excuse to make out in the living room. It was eleven thirty when Yuuri was corralled into the bedroom by a cuddly Russian smelling strongly of cherry and vodka. 

Christophe placed two mugs of vanilla latte on the left nightstand, cheerfully whistling and getting into bed with the now frozen couple as though it was his own bed. Viktor was still attempting to kiss his fiance, Yuuri blankly staring at Christophe, who happily propped his chin up on his hand and winked. 

“Oh no, keep going, don’t mind me,” the Swiss purred, Viktor finally giving up on his mission and rolling off of Yuuri to stand on the heated wooden floor. 

“Nope, you ruined it,” Yuuri chimed, also standing and downing a cup of hot coffee, thankful for replacing his underwear last night -Viktor was scrambling around the room looking for his own pair, Christophe unabashedly staring at the Russian’s rear. 

“Well you certainly set the mood last night, I’m sure I heard something from the guest room too,” Chris hummed, fluffing Viktor’s pillow under his head. Yuuri rolled his eyes and pulled on a shirt and some sweats from the clean laundry pile, listening for his fiance in the walk in closet. Sure enough, a loud thump indicated Viktor struggling to dress himself without caffeine. 

 

By ten that evening, Yuuri was sitting on the couch, Yuri and Mila on either side of him. Yuri was on his phone, but regularly resurfaced long enough to bark insults at the television. Mila, covered with golden glitter was alternating between watching the contest and eyeing Sara who sat in the armchair. Right after Italy’s performance, which Mila had thought was lackluster (and mistakenly voiced) their relationship had ended and begun no less that three times. Christophe was already quite tipsy, though saving the drinking game for scoring. He’d also decided that in order to properly support his country on the night of Eurovision, he must only wear a Swiss flag. Yuuri gave up all sense of control when Chris paraded around the apartment singing along with the Swiss contestant, flag as a cape.   
Georgi was the only one enjoying the ballads, singing along with the ones he knew and making a note of some he thought he could use as a free skate program next season, despite Yuri’s violent discouragement of such a “career-ending action”.   
Emil was tweeting the entire event, including a shaky video of Chris and Viktor loudly singing with the Azerbaijani entry, and multiple photos of a disgruntled Michele who had been painted to resemble the Italian flag by his twin and her then girlfriend.   
Viktor was drunker than Chris, though coherent enough to argue with the jury votes as they came in, Russian flag tied around him like a toga by Yuuri, who didn’t want the entire internet seeing his fiance’s junk as Emil slammed social media in a fashion only Phichit could compete with. 

And Yuuri still didn’t understand, even as the public votes came in. 

“But why is Australia there?” Yuuri asked, Mila and Sara shaking their heads. 

“I don’t think anyone knows,” Mila answered, standing to clap as Italy shot up the leaderboard to first place. Sara approved this action and the pair became a couple again. Emil tried to copy and reap the benefits from Michele, who crossed his green and white arms and only offered a begrudging smooch. Viktor tumbled to sit next to Yuuri, flag still expertly draped and tied. Chris posed in the background (dick = out) for a grinning Emil and blushing Michele. 

“If I win can I have a kiss?” Viktor mumbled, negating the request by nosing at Yuuri’s face, searching for a kiss anyways. 

“You win? Vitya, you’re not competing,” Yuuri laughed, kissing Viktor’s regal cheekbone that had a smear of Mila’s glitter on it. Viktor grinned.

“Right. Right. If Russia wins?” He asked, in the background Chris had fallen to the floor, Switzerland not budging from the right hand side of the board. 

“If Russia wins, you can have a kiss,” Yuuri replied, still confused as to how Australia was even on the board and how Croatia was on top of the board when clearly it should have been -

“Who do you think will win, Yuuri,” Viktor said, breath fluttering on the other’s neck. 

“I quite liked Australia’s entry-” Yuuri began, before the other Yuri turned his phone off and began a rapid lecture in Russian. Christophe looked up from his position of despair on the floor with a heartbreakingly disappointed expression, and Viktor uttered the words he never thought he would.

“I’m divorcing you.”


End file.
